


Somewhere Only We Know

by shamelessly_mkp



Series: Baby Kinksters [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: D/s, KINK: Spanking, KINK: bondage, Kink, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Subspace, baby kinksters are adorable, blaine has issues, kink: caging/confinement, kink: communication & negotiation, kink: discipline, putting the d/s in bdsm, updated as comment!fic elsewhere, warning: author updates sporadically, warning: bad subspace trip, warning: kink-shaming, warning: mental-illness-shaming, warning: non-negotiated bdsm activities, warning: rough rough draft, warning: run-on sentences like whoa, warning: subject to revision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six weeks.  Kurt's leaving for New York in six weeks.  He's leaving Blaine in six weeks.  He's leaving Blaine alone, in Lima, in that huge, always empty house.  Blaine won't have Kurt's house as a refuge anymore. (He's told Blaine not to be silly, that of course he'd always be welcome at his parents' house.  His dad's told Blaine that, for crying out loud.  He still knows Blaine won't go there, not without Kurt.  He'd worry about imposing.  As if he could.)  Blaine won't have Kurt as a refuge anymore.  </p><p>Kurt just wants to give him someplace safe.  Someplace, like the sappy song Blaine'd once sung to him, that only they know.</p><p>VERY ROUGH DRAFT AND A WORK IN PROGRESS. YOU MAY WANT TO WAIT UNTIL IT'S DONE AND EDITED, OR READ THE COMMENT!FIC VERSION THAT UPDATES MORE OFTEN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Set post 3x17. Currently ignores canon past that point on account of my still not having seen it. (Yay, irrational anxieties!) Does in fact take place during the school year before graduation despite it saying it takes place during summer vacation. (Yes, I'm retconning. Yes, I plan to fix it when the fic's done.)
> 
> Warnings: d/s activities without prior communication or negotiation and therefore dubious consent; subdrop; having a bad trip while in subspace (I have no idea what else to call that); probable characterization fails on my part; abuse of italics, run-on sentences like whoa
> 
>  
> 
> Updated [here](http://gleedsm.livejournal.com/6332.html?thread=114620#t114620) as comment!fic.

Kurt really didn't know how to broach the subject. He couldn't exactly say  _Blaine, honey, I've noticed how you tend to jam yourself into small spaces like between my bed and the wall when you're upset_   or  _I'm worried about you being alone next year, because you don't seem to do so well by yourself_ , and he definitely couldn't say  _so, I was thinking about you and I read some stuff on the internet and what are your thoughts on cages?_    
  
Yeah. That wasn't happening.  
  
In the end, Kurt did what he always did: Went shopping. Actions spoke louder than words, after all. And if Blaine didn't like it - well, he could always put everything back the way it was.  
  
***  
  
Blaine was noticeably a little confused and more than a little curious, but he agreed to go out and see a movie with Mike so Kurt could get his surprise ready.  
  
("A surprise? It's not my birthday or anything, Kurt."  
  
"I know. This is just - I just want to do this for you. Before I leave."  
  
"Kurt-"  
  
"Please, Blaine.")  
  
That gave Kurt nearly three hours, counting travel time, and he put all of it to good use. He'd just finished arranging Blaine's clothes in the wardrobe he'd just installed, not able to resist organizing them by color and style, when he heard Blaine's car pull up.  
  
"Kurt?" Blaine's voice called up from the entrance way.  
  
"Up here!" Kurt called back, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt. He was nervous-of course he was nervous. This is for Blaine, Kurt had to remind himself. Even if this is awkward and weird and -- this is for Blaine.   
  
It wasn't as though he could put everything back the way it had been in the next thirty seconds, anyway. There was no chickening out now. Kurt lifted his chin determinedly just as Blaine knocked on his own door-frame.  
  
"Hey, you," Blaine said affectionately.  
  
Kurt's mouth twitched into a smile of its own accord. "Hey, you," He replied, stepping forward and pulling his adorable, ridiculous boyfriend into a kiss.  
  
Blaine pulled back first. Kurt couldn't help but wish they could kiss just a little bit longer. He was nervous about Blaine's reaction.  
  
"...So," Blaine said teasingly, running his hand down Kurt's chest. "Is this my surprise? You in my bedroom? Because I've got to say, I like it, but I'm not sure why you needed me out of the house for that."  
  
Kurt laughed. "No," He said, "That's not your surprise. Come on." He grabbed Blaine by the hand and tugged him forward. "This," Kurt said, pulling Blaine's closet door open dramatically, "Is your surprise."  
  
Blaine was silent. He looked--shocked. Kurt tried to make out any other emotions, but shock seemed to be the only one making it through.  
  
"I got you a wardrobe," Kurt said, "So all your clothes are in there now, and while I did switch the doors out, I kept the original; it's right over there in the corner; so if you don't like it I can always put it back."  
  
Blaine was silent.  
  
"So," Kurt continued, realizing he was starting to babble a little, but unable to help it - it was nerve-wracking, showing this to Blaine and not getting any reaction at all, "I got a mattress-well, kind of a mattress, it's certainly soft like a mattress-so you can have someplace soft to sit, or curl up and sleep, and there's a shelf, so you can, well, put things on it, like you do with shelves, and I put in a fold-up one lower down, too, so it'd be out of the way, but if you wanted to keep something to drink in there or something, you'd have a space for that without having to get up--"  
  
Blaine was still silent. Kurt could hear his voice getting higher, as it did whenever he got nervous, but he couldn't stop now. "And the door, I got it specially made; it's a variation on the classic dutch door, so instead of opening in two halves, it opens in thirds, and I installed a handle low down on the inside, so you can shut it yourself, and Blaine would you please just say something?"  
  
When Blaine spoke, it was in a tone of tight control. "This is some kind of joke, right?"  
  
Kurt's heart sank a little. This wasn't going over as well as he'd hoped. Unsure of how to respond, he went with a simple shake of his head.  
  
Blaine shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Why-- Kurt. Why the  _hell_ would you -- what is this even _for_?"  
  
Kurt wet his lips nervously. "It's for you, Blaine."  
  
"What do you mean, for me?"  
  
"I mean -" Kurt paused, trying to think how to phrase it, "I wanted - it's someplace safe, for you. Somewhere just the two of us know about, where you can relax, and just - it's for you. I made it for you."  
  
"Like, you're expecting me to sit in a closet?" Blaine's voice rose in pitch. "Is this some kind of joke about my questioning my sexuality last year?"  
  
"No!" Kurt reached forward to bridge the gap between them, but Blaine pulled away before they could touch. "No," Kurt repeated, curling his hands back into his sides. "This has nothing to do with that. This has to do with us. And my leaving. And I know you don't want to talk about it," Kurt said quickly, forestalling Blaine's protest, "But it's happening. And it's happening soon. And I just. I don't like the thought of you here all by yourself. You must get so lonely."  
  
"So you thought the answer was to build me a fort in my clothes closet?"  
  
Kurt didn't get a chance to reply.  
  
"Do you have any idea how weird that is? I'm seventeen, Kurt, not seven, for God's sake. This is - it's ridiculous. I don't understand how you even came up with it. And I get that you're trying to  _help_   me, or whatever, but - seriously? A  _closet_?"

"Well, I thought about getting an actual cage, but I figured the closet would be less conspicuous," Kurt quipped, immediately regretting his flippant reply. The incredulity in Blaine's expression was quickly being replaced by anger.  
  
"A  _cage_? This is meant to be some kind of, of,  _stand-in_ for a _cage_? And you thought I'd  _like_  that? Jeez, Kurt, it's great to know my boyfriend has such a wonderful opinion of me, that he thinks I'm some kind of  _freak_ -"  
  
"Hey!" Kurt interjected. "I don't think you're some kind of freak. Stop putting words in my mouth, Blaine, and _listen_ to me."  
  
Blaine was shaking his head before Kurt reached the end of his sentence. "No, I think we're done here, okay? I think - I think you should go."  
  
Kurt grabbed Blaine's wrist, hoping Blaine wouldn't try to twist out of his grip, because then Kurt would have to let him go, but Kurt just needed him to  _listen_.  
  
"Blaine.  _Please._ "  
  
It was the please that got to him, Kurt knew. Blaine had never been able to say no to Kurt, not about anything serious. It had both elated and worried Kurt by turns, and had in fact been part of the impetus behind his recent google searches.   
  
The defeated slump of Blaine's shoulders almost made Kurt want to give up, to play it off as some kind of joke and just put Blaine's room back the way it originally was. Remembering all of the times Blaine had contentedly sat on the floor at Kurt's feet, ignoring the nearby seats; all of the times Kurt had found him curled up in a tight corner or wedged between things; all of the times Blaine had deliberately (and Kurt _knew_   it was deliberate) mis-tied his daily bow-tie, just so Kurt would fix it for him - remembering these made his resolve harden. Blaine needed this, even if he wouldn't admit it. He needed  _something_ , and this was the only thing Kurt could think of. He couldn't stay in Lima. He couldn't take Blaine with him, as much as he'd love to. He had to find a way to take care of Blaine without actually being there. He had to give Blaine a refuge to go to. He couldn't just leave Blaine in Lima, with his distant parents and huge empty house, with the hostile hallways of McKinley and the drama of New Directions, without  _someplace_   safe to go.  
  
And if Blaine wouldn't use Kurt's house, not without Kurt there, well. Kurt had had to improvise.  
  
"I don't think you're a freak," Kurt repeated, more gently. "I know it's ... different, but we've always been different, haven't we?"  
  
Blaine snorted. "I think there's a difference between whatever the hell "this" is and being gay, Kurt."  
  
"Shh," Kurt hushed him. "Just let me talk, okay?"  
  
Blaine sighed, but nodded acquiescence.  
  
Kurt wet his lips, trying to decide how to say what he needed to. "I just think this might be good for you," he finally settled on. "I know you're pretty much always the life of the party, Blaine, but I've also seen you when you're quiet and you curl yourself up in the smallest place you can find. Just listen to me," He forestalled Blaine's protest. "This is - it's someplace only we know, okay? Like the song. It's somewhere just for you, for when everything gets to be too much, and don't you dare take that like I mean you're weak or something stupid like that, Blaine, because we all have times when everything gets to be too much, okay?"  
  
Blaine's expression had softened during Kurt's monologue, so he no longer looked so  _angry,_   but he still looked less than happy. "That's sweet, Kurt, but I don't think -"  
  
"Just try it," Kurt cut him off, belatedly realizing he probably should have phrased that as a question. "Please," he added, seeing the refusal on Blaine's features. "For me." Seeing the hesitance give way a little in the face of Blaine's need to make Kurt happy, Kurt pressed onward. "I'm going to go downstairs and make us a nice, home-cooked meal. That was the second part of the surprise. Just...try it while I'm cooking, okay? I'll come get you when dinner's ready, and if I was wrong, if it was terrible or just stupidly tedious, or whatever you think it's going to be like, then we can eat dinner and I'll help you put everything back the way it was. Just try it for me."  
  
Blaine sighed. "Fine," he said, sitting down in the closet, "But this is ridiculous. I  _feel_   ridiculous. What am I even supposed to do in here, Kurt?"  
  
Kurt's heart couldn't help but skip a beat. Even disgruntled as Blaine was, Kurt could already see the tension starting to melt away from Blaine's shoulders as he settled backwards into the corner of the closet. It was beautiful, the way Blaine started to soften - Blaine acted so naturally all of the time that Kurt sometimes forgot just how much of a facade he put on, until they were alone again and Blaine finally let it drop.  
  
"Just-" Kurt shrugged. "Relax."  
  
Blaine looked skeptical. "Fine," he said with a clearly humoring-the-insane-boyfriend sigh. "Just until you're done with dinner, alright? And then you'll drop this and we can put it back."  
  
"If that's what you want," Kurt said, bending down to drop a quick kiss on Blaine's lip. "This is for you, Blaine. Just for you."  
  
Blaine rolled his eyes, but relaxed further, slumping down against the wall of the closet. "So go get started on dinner already," he said in a tone of mock complaint. "I'm starving here!"  
  
***  
  
Blaine was bored. He'd only been sitting there for what couldn't have been more than a few minutes (even if it felt like FOREVER), and he was bored. This was ridiculous.  
  
What was Kurt _thinking?_  
  
Blaine banged his head back against the wall in frustration. He loved his boyfriend, he really did, and he appreciated everything Kurt did for him, but really. This was just WEIRD.  
  
He sighed. No matter how ridiculous it was, or humiliating, Kurt had asked him to give this thing a chance, so he would. Closing his eyes, Blaine tried to just relax. Maybe he'd take a nap? It WAS pretty comfortable in here - Kurt'd clearly gone to a lot of trouble to fix it up nicely. Blaine had to appreciate that, even if he was still kind of angry that Kurt had gone behind his back and taken it upon himself to just CHANGE Blaine's room, like he had the RIGHT - Right. Giving it a try. Remembering it's the thought that counts.   
  
Sigh.  
  
Blaine wished he was sitting at his desk instead, just so he could properly HEADDESK, but he contented himself with a mental FACEPALM. His life right now? A total FML.  
  
Closing his eyes, Blaine tried to clear his head. Ruminating on the sheer weirdness of this and his boyfriend's unclear motivations (okay, that was unfair - Kurt's motivations were clearly good and out of love and whatever) wasn't really the way to relax. He  _had_   told Kurt he'd try it. Whatever "it" was. And Blaine wasn't going to break his word.  
  
But seriously. What the hell? How did Kurt even come  _up_  with something like this? Talking about  _cages_ , like their life was some weird, kinky porno-and if that was the first type of porn Kurt had ever seen, Blaine so understood why he'd run and hid from it. That shit freaked  _Blaine_ out. He'd watched one video all the way through once - a man tied up by another man and ... tortured was the only word Blaine could think of to describe it, although not everything the other guy had done had been painful. The one tied up was clearly getting off on it, which was just - how could someone get off on being tied up and  _hurt_? Like, whatever floats your boat, to each their own, but that's just WEIRD. And the guy doing the hurting - how messed up is that? Getting off on someone else's pain - it must be like having sex with one of those guys who had tormented him back at his first high school.  
  
It had made Blaine really uncomfortable. Sure, he'd gotten hard - the men  _were_  attractive, after all - and he'd gotten off - he's a teenage boy, of course he got off - but throughout, there'd been this slightly sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
That couldn't have been what Kurt meant. Not Kurt, his sweet, loving boyfriend. Kurt might have hurt him in the past, but never intentionally, and Blaine knew Kurt never  _would_ hurt him intentionally.  
  
(He buried the thought that maybe that would change when Kurt when to New York, maybe he'd meet someone else, someone more exciting than Blaine, more attractive, taller, better - No. Kurt wouldn't do that. They were going to be fine.)  
  
Blaine tried instead to focus on the softness of the mattress underneath him (was that memory foam? How had Kurt managed that?), the soothing coolness of the wall at his back. From downstairs, he could faintly hear Kurt puttering around in the kitchen, making dinner.  
  
For _them_.  
  
Blaine's body relaxed, almost without him even noticing. He ended up shifting down, lying on his back with his hands behind his head and looking at the ceiling of his closet.   
  
He'd never really looked at it before. It was ... nice. For some reason, some person at some point had decided to paint the closet ceiling the same shade of green that decorated the rest of Blaine's room. It was bizarre, because that same person had apparently decided to paint the rest of the closet a creamy off white, but Blaine liked it. The contrast was ... soothing.

***

Kurt looked at his finished masterpiece with pride. It was an excellent meal, if he said so himself. Now, time to check on Blaine. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, but gamely made his way upward. The worst that could happen was that Blaine still didn't like it, right? He'd already gotten angry, and gotten over it, so it was going to be fine. Just fine.

Kurt paused upon entering Blaine's room. Maybe more than fine, actually. Blaine had moved since Kurt had first left; he was now flat on his back, chest gently rising and falling. Kurt hated to disturb him, he looked so peaceful, but a deal was a deal. "Blaine, honey?" Blaine made a soft sound of assent, but didn't move. Brow furrowed, Kurt made his way over to the closet and knelt next to his boyfriend. "Dinner's ready." Blaine slowly opened his eyes and blinked lethargically. He looked confused.

"It's time to go downstairs and eat," Kurt elaborated.

Blaine's forehead wrinkled, and he shook his head slowly. "Why - not hungry."

Kurt frowned. "You haven't eaten since lunch time," he pointed out.

Blaine just shook his head again, turning and rubbing it against the mattress. "s'soft."

Kurt was a little worried at the distance in Blaine's voice. He wasn't quite slurring his words, but he just - he seemed  _out_   of it. Not in a bad way, he looked -  _content_ , in a way Kurt so rarely saw, but - was this what that website had meant by subspace? Didn't that take time and effort?  As Kurt thought, he absentmindedly started petting Blaine's hair. Blaine automatically rolled over toward Kurt, pressing his face against Kurt's thigh. He reminded Kurt in that moment of nothing so much as a cat, asking to be petted. If he'd had the right vocal cords, Kurt was pretty sure Blaine would be purring right now. He put his worries aside. They could deal with all that later. Right now, he had Blaine to take care of. And as much as Blaine might want to stay where he was, he really did need to eat. Kurt didn't want to break him out of whatever head-space he was in, though. He looked so peaceful. Kurt couldn't bear the thought of being the one to take that away from him.

Absentmindedly worrying at the side of his mouth with his tongue, Kurt came to a decision. Gently, he tried to maneuver Blaine's head from his lap back to the ground, but Blaine resisted. "I'll be right back," Kurt reassured him, but Blaine shook his head against Kurt's thigh and started clinging on for good measure. 

"Don' want you to go." Kurt almost melted right then and there. Blaine was _adorable_   like this, so loose and open and wanting in a way Kurt had only ever seen when they were in bed - and even then, only close to or post orgasm. But Blaine really did need to eat. Kurt was hungry, too. 

After a few more unsuccessful attempts at persuading Blaine to stop his limpet impression and let Kurt go downstairs, Kurt decided it was time to bring out the big guns. So to speak. He called Blaine by his name, sharply enough to get Blaine to actually look at him. "I'm going downstairs," Kurt said firmly and clearly. "I'm going to get some food for us, and then I'm coming right back. You're going to stay here and wait for me. Understand?"

Blaine nodded hesitantly. "You're coming back," he repeated, clearly needing reassurance on this point.

"As soon as I get some food together," Kurt assured him. 

"Could come with you," Blaine said, looking torn between the allure of the closet and the need to be close to Kurt.

"You could," Kurt agreed, looking at Blaine again. Blaine really didn't look like he was up to going anywhere, though. "But you're not going to." Blaine's brow furrowed, but before he could say anything, Kurt continued: "You're going to stay here, like -" he paused to gulp nervously (god, what if he was wrong) "like a good boy," he finished, voice breaking a little on the end.

The look on Blaine's face then was something Kurt would never in a million years forget - like he'd gotten something wonderful and fantastic that he'd never even known he wanted. The shy smile slowly spreading ear to ear just served to convince Kurt further that he had been right to do this for Blaine. "Good boy," he repeated, more certain of himself now. This time, Blaine let Kurt shift him gently back to the mattress, still looking up at Kurt in astonished adoration all the while. "I'll be right back," Kurt promised.

Blaine nodded. "Be here."

Kurt smiled, an uncontrollable grin taking over his features. "Yes, you will."

In the end, Kurt decided on cheese and crackers, with some apple slices for variety. Light, easy to eat, and still fairly nutritious. Halfway up the stairs, he detoured back to grab bottles of water out of the fridge. No sense in feeding Blaine just to watch him dehydrate.

Blaine wouldn't take any initiative, but was compliant enough when Kurt pressed food on him. It almost reminded Kurt of a baby bird, being fed by its mother (although in this scenario, Kurt supposed he was the mama bird, which was kind of weird, and somewhat incestuous, and maybe this analogy wasn't the best one). Blaine would obediently open his mouth for anything Kurt held to his lips, but didn't seem to want to get anything himself.

Kurt shrugged internally. It was a little strange, to have Blaine eating so tamely from his fingertips, but at least he  _was_  eating, and Kurt couldn't really deny the stir of possessive pride at being trusted like this. It was a heady feeling, and Kurt wanted more.

In all of his planning, he'd only ever thought of what Blaine needed, of giving Blaine what he didn't seem able to admit he wanted.  It had never really occurred to him that it was something he might want too.

That thought preoccupied Kurt for the rest of the night. He felt a bit guilty for being so distracted, but honestly, Blaine didn't even seem to notice. So long as Kurt was touching him in some way, he seemed to be happy, humming softly to himself and occasionally giving a completely non-sequitor comment. Time passed faster than Kurt realized, and before he knew it, he was about to break curfew if he didn't get going _right then_.

Kurt didn't want to leave Blaine, but after talking to him for a few minutes, his boyfriend was at least sitting up under his own power, and was coherent enough that (once he realized what time it was) he was encouraging Kurt to leave himself.

"You're okay?" Kurt checked again.

Blaine nodded. His movements were still slow and deliberate, but the haze had lifted from his eyes, at least. "Go," he pushed gently at Kurt's shoulder. "It's late -I'm just going to go to sleep, anyway. Go," he repeated. "I don't want you to get in trouble with your dad."

Kurt still had a nagging feeling that he shouldn't be leaving, but his dad was going to be angry - and worse, might be worried - and Blaine seemed pretty confident. So Kurt allowed himself to be persuaded to leave, kissing Blaine goodbye at the door and admonishing him to go to bed, he'd see him tomorrow.

By dint of judicious speeding, Kurt made it home by curfew (although only just), and slipped upstairs past his father's raised eyebrow and greeting of "Had a good time at Blaine's?"

("Yeah, we watched a movie and had dinner."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Dad!"

"Just be safe, Kurt."

"Ohmygod."

"Do we need to have another talk? I have more pamphlets-"

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you."

"You matter, Kurt."

"I'm not talking to you anymore. Goodnight.")

***

After the door shut behind Kurt, Blaine slowly made his way back up the stairs. He felt unsteady on his feet, like his knees could give out at any moment. It was disconcerting.

He balked at the door to his room. He couldn't go back in there now. The fuzzy contentment of earlier was fading away, and mortified humiliation was taking its place.

Had Blaine _really_ acted like that? God, what must Kurt _think_ of him now? He hadn't wanted to leave, kept asking if Blaine was okay - Kurt was such an amazing boyfriend, so loving and compassionate, and what did Blaine do? Act like some kind of, of _freak_ and refuse to get up and eat from his boyfriend's fingers (and not in a sexy way; like a _pet_ ) and -

Blaine couldn't go back in there. The closet door was still open, a plate with crackers lying nearby.

Heat stung at the back of his eyelids, and nausea swirled deep in his stomach.

Blaine spent the rest of the night on the couch.

***

Kurt texted Blaine first thing in the morning to make sure they were still on for their date that night. (Kurt also wanted to know if yesterday had been okay, if he'd done the right thing, if they ought to talk, if - but those weren't really things one could ask through a text.)

When Blaine hadn't responded by lunch time, Kurt began to get worried. At first, he'd told himself that Blaine was probably still sleeping, or that his phone was somewhere he couldn't hear it. But the fact of the matter was that Blaine was a habitually early riser, and that since the Chandler Debacle, both Blaine and Kurt were extra vigilant in making sure they received (and responded) to texts.

When calling Blaine's home phone resulted in it ringing out and the pleasant, overly formal tones of Blaine's mother informing him that the Andersons were not currently available, but to leave a message and they would be sure to get back to him, Kurt began to get angry.

This was deliberate.

Anger was followed by hurt. Why was Blaine avoiding him? Did it have to do with yesterday? Had Kurt done something wrong? Had Blaine not liked it after all? (No, that was impossible. There was no way Kurt could have misinterpreted Blaine's reactions the day before. He'd been right to try to give this to Blaine.)

Kurt put on his "determined" hat and went to beard the lion in its den. So to speak.

Blaine didn't answer the door when Kurt rang the bell, but his car was still there. Kurt was really getting worried again - even if Blaine was angry and didn't want to see Kurt, he'd answer the door, wouldn't he? It's not like he could tell it was Kurt ahead of time.

Kurt felt a little guilty about using the hide-a-key Blaine had shown him once, but really. What if Blaine was hurt? Or sick? Or -

...curled up on the floor next to the couch, looking like he hadn't moved in hours.

What the hell?

"Blaine?"

Blaine jerked upright. "Kurt! What - what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you," Kurt said, slowly walking forward, trying not to spook his boyfriend. Blaine looked like he was an inch away from bolting. "We were going to go to the movies tonight, remember? You weren't answering your phone."

"I'm fine," Blaine said, face smoothing into a distantly pleasant mask. "It was kind of you to worry, though. I do apologize; I'm not going to be able to make it tonight."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Blaine got to his feet. "Really. I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing."

Kurt deliberately didn't move, even though Blaine was clearly hoping to shoo him out the door. "Oh, I don't think it was for nothing," Kurt said. "Even if we do have to take a rain check on that date, we can at least talk about yesterday."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Blaine. Clearly you liked what we did yester-"

"Yeah, not so much."

Kurt hadn't quite expected Blaine to so blatantly lie. "I think we both know that's not true," Kurt said evenly.

"You just want to keep me dependent on you," Blaine accused, voice getting louder. "You think putting me in some kind of cage and treating me like a pet is the way to give Kurt Hummel the star experience he deserves?"[m1] 

"What are you talking about?"

"Or maybe this is something you cooked up with Chandler." Blaine was starting to get hysterical now. "A big joke, right? See how much of a freak I am, how pathetically head over heels I am for you?"

Kurt couldn't speak for a moment. Blaine was throwing Chandler in his face again? The hell?

Kurt caught sight of the panic in Blaine's eyes and suddenly, he understood. Blaine didn't understand what had happened yesterday. He hadn't wanted to try the closet, and when he had tried it, it had clearly been somewhat overwhelming for him. And Kurt had just left him at the end of the day - hadn't even bothered to make Blaine talk it through with him, hadn't helped him process it all. Blaine couldn't deal with all of the emotion brought on by yesterday and was instinctively striking out. He was trying to hit Kurt where it hurt because he was hurting.

Kurt understood, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt, or that it was in any way acceptable, and he told Blaine so. Blaine didn't appreciate the observation, a sentiment he vehemently shared.

"You're acting like a child," Kurt finally snapped.

"So why don't you spank me then?" Blaine retorted.

"Maybe I should!"

"Do it," Blaine challenged, stepping forward.

Beyond the anger and the confrontational glint in Blaine's eyes, Kurt could have sworn he saw a brief hint of longing before it was quickly swept away again by the storm of emotions.

Before Kurt could lose his nerve, he quickly stepped forward and whirled his boyfriend around, bending him over the sofa and landing a hard blow on his ass.

Blaine let out a cry more of surprise than pain, but Kurt didn't let that stop him, spanking Blaine several more times in rapid succession before pausing.

He had to take a few deep breaths before he spoke, not trusting his voice to stay even otherwise. "Why am I spanking you, Blaine?"

Blaine shook a little and made a wordless little sound of upset.

"Blaine." Kurt smacked him again. "I asked you a question."

Blaine's voice, when he finally replied, was small and wavering. "...Be-because I was a jerk?"

"Because you deliberately tried to hurt me and make me angry, yes," Kurt said, taking it upon himself to expand on Blaine's confession. "And?"

"And what?" Blaine sounded so confused, Kurt almost took pity on him, but at the last second, he hardened his resolve and spanked him again.

"Why were you doing that, Blaine? Because you were upset and scared, right?" Kurt didn't wait for a reply. "So the other reason you're getting this spanking is because you kept that to yourself. We're in this relationship together. You're supposed to tell me when you're unhappy, when you're scared. Especially if it's because of something I've done. You don't bottle it up and then take it out on me later."

"I didn't mean to - I'm sorry," Blaine said in a quiet, teary voice.

"I know you are," Kurt said, voice softening. "But this is something you've done before, you know. It's a bad habit of yours, and one we need to break. So I think we're not quite done here."

Blaine nodded shakily.

Kurt swallowed nervously. He had no idea what he was doing, was just going on instinct. "So how many more do you think you deserve, Blaine?"

Blaine shook his head desperately. "I don't know."

"That's not an answer," Kurt said disapprovingly.

"Ten?" Blaine hazarded.

"Try again," Kurt said, a slight frisson of excitement running through him at the sense of power he felt in that moment.

"Thirty?"

Kurt hummed a little in contemplation. "Thirty it is. But without the pants," he added quickly. So far, it'd been hurting his hand just as much as Blaine's butt.

Blaine obediently let his pajama[m2]  (and had Blaine really been on the floor next to the couch all night? It certainly looked like it) pants slide to the floor, never straightening up from where Kurt had bent him over the arm of the sofa.

"I want you to count for me, honey," Kurt said, endearment dropping from his lips by sheer accident, but he wasn't about to take it back.

"'kay."

Kurt held Blaine steady with one hand on the small of his back, and lifted the other high.

CRACK!

Blaine cried out again, this time more from pain than surprise, but quickly counted out "One" before Kurt could remind him.

***

Blaine didn't understand what was happening. It was all so hazy - his world had narrowed down to the burning hot weight of Kurt's hand on the small of his back, the humiliating chill on the backs of his thighs, and the -

CRACK!

"Six," he managed to choke out.

He'd screwed up, he'd screwed up so badly; he'd yelled at Kurt; why had he yelled at Kurt? He'd brought up Chandler; he'd said such ugly, ugly things -

CRACK!

"S-seven." Blaine scrunched his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall. It hurt, so much more now that the meager protection of his pants had been stripped away, and the sting of the humiliation of it all was almost as bad as

(CRACK!

"Eight!")

the sting of the blows themselves, and throughout it all was the stinging sense of shame that he deserved this. Or he didn't deserve this, Blaine didn't even know anymore. God, Kurt should just break up with him. He was such a freak, and a terrible boyfriend and Kurt was having to _spank_ him, like a _child_ and

CRACK!

Blaine cried out. That had been a harder blow than any of the others.

"Stay here, Blaine," his boyfriend sharply demanded. "You need to stay here, with me."

Blaine didn't know what that meant, but nodded frantically all the same. "M'here, m'here."

Kurt paused for a moment, the hand on Blaine's back switching from restraint to soothing caress. "Okay," he finally said. "Just stay here, alright? I could really hurt you if you if I can't tell how much this is affecting you."

Blaine nodded.

"Now," Kurt said, voice changing back to that harder tone and hand heavier again on Blaine's back, "I believe you were counting?"

"N-nine," Blaine said quickly.

Kurt hummed contemplatively. "I'll let it go this time because I distracted you, but if you take that long again, it simply won't count, understand?"

Blaine nodded.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

"Good boy."

***

Kurt was so relieved he could barely stand it when they finally reached thirty. Blaine's ass was dark pink, visible even against the tan of his skin, and he'd been in enough pain that Kurt had by the end been just barely hitting him, blows that were more for formality’s sake than anything else. Blaine had counted each and every blow for Kurt (although some of the later numbers had come out choked or slurred, but Kurt hadn't held that against him) and Kurt was so proud that Blaine had managed that for him, but -

His boyfriend was in pain. Had been crying quietly for the last several minutes. Yes, he'd shook his head "no" when Kurt asked if he needed Kurt to stop, and yes, it had been a punishment, but -

Kurt just wanted to gather Blaine up close to him and cuddle him until everything bad ever went away.

He settled for rubbing Blaine's back soothingly as Blaine's ragged sobs slowed.

"It's alright," Kurt said, again and again. "It's all over now. You're forgiven."

Blaine wetly ~~hiccuped~~ hiccupped a few times, breaths still uneven, but easily followed the tug Kurt gave him as he sat down on the couch, falling into Kurt's lap with another quiet sob. Kurt maneuvered them both so that Blaine's sore ass was sort of suspended between Kurt's thighs and not actually resting on anything. Blaine allowed it, not really moving much himself except to bury his face further in Kurt's neck and more tightly fist Kurt's shirt.

Under any other circumstance, Kurt would have been rather upset by this treatment of his clothing.

"It's alright, honey," Kurt repeated, still trying to get Blaine to calm down. The sobs were slowing, but Blaine was still having trouble breathing normally. He'd take a few normal breaths, and then a sob would interrupt it and it'd be several raggedly sucked in breaths before he could slow it down again. "Breathe with me, Blaine," Kurt encouraged, deliberately exaggerating his slow inhales and exhales. Before long, Blaine's breaths were falling into the same pattern. "That's it, honey. You're doing so well," Kurt praised his boyfriend, stroking his hair and holding him close.

"M'sorry," Blaine snuffled into Kurt's neck. "Kurt, m'so sorry."

"Shh, sweetheart. Blaine, honey, it's all over now. You're forgiven."

"But m'sorry-"

"I know you are," Kurt shushed him, "But you don't have to be, not anymore. You did something wrong, but now you've been punished for it, and it's done with now. It's a clean slate, do you understand, honey?"

"...m'forgiven?"

"Yes, honey. You're forgiven. It's done with now. You don't have to worry about it anymore."

Kurt felt Blaine nod hesitantly against his neck. Kurt suspected from the few things Blaine had mentioned about his parents that Blaine wasn't used to his mistakes being so easily erased, that usually they would be brought up again and again, with no way to atone for whatever the supposed wrongdoing was.

Kurt thought - well, it didn't matter what Kurt thought, because they were Blaine's parents and they loved him, and moreover, Blaine loved them, so Kurt could look askance at Blaine's parents' parenting choices all he wanted so long as it stayed in the privacy of his own head.

It grew far too infuriating to hold in if he thought about it too much. What kind of parents left a seventeen-year-old on their own for days? On a regular basis?

Blaine's house was always empty. Except for Blaine.

Kurt couldn't stand the thought of how alone Blaine was going to be once Kurt left. If only he could take Blaine with him, if only there was some way-

"Isn't," Blaine's voice broke into Kurt's thoughts. Surprised, Kurt focused back in on his boyfriend. Had he been thinking out loud?

Blaine laughed a little against Kurt's collar. "You do it sometimes," he mumbled, apparently reading Kurt's mind again.

Kurt blushed. "Oh."

"S'adorable." Blaine nuzzled further into Kurt's neck. "You're adorable," he said with a yawn.

Kurt ran a gentle hand down Blaine's back. His hand stung, far more than he'd been expecting, but it had to be nothing next to Blaine's ass. "Are you okay?" Kurt asked, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. "Did I - I mean, I know I hurt you, but did I _hurt_ you hurt you?"

Blaine shook his head, drawing back a little to look Kurt in the eyes for a minute. "It's okay. I'm okay." Averting his gaze, Blaine continued in a lower tone, "I-I liked it. Kind of. Not being punished, or that I acted like that, but - you forgave me. And it's over now?" Blaine said again, the higher inflection at the end telling Kurt he wanted further reassurance.[m3] 

"Over and done with," Kurt said firmly. He studied Blaine for a minute. "Instead of going out to the movies tonight, why don't we stay home and cuddle on the couch while admiring the brilliance that is Moulin Rouge."

Blaine nodded happily, almost bouncing in his excitement. [m4] It was his favorite movie, Kurt knew. Well, that and Fight Club, but Kurt was not watching that again.

Kurt helped Blaine shift off his lap and back to standing. Blaine embarrassedly tried to pull up his pants, but Kurt stopped him. "Let me, honey."

Blaine flushed red, but obediently stood still and let Kurt gently redress him.

"That's my good boy," Kurt murmured, not even thinking about the words falling from his mouth. "You were so good for me, honey. Always so good for me."

Blaine made a soft little sound that sounded like surrender, and Kurt couldn't help but kiss him.

"I love you," Kurt whispered, drawing back a little. "So, so much. You don't even know-"

"I do," Blaine interrupted, taking Kurt's hands and pulling them close between them. "I do know. Because I love you. So, so much. Kurt, sometimes I can't even breathe I love you so much."

Kurt laughed- he couldn't help it. "Don't suffocate on my account," he mock-warned.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Kurt's smile changed, became more serious, wistful even. "I do," he agreed quietly. "I do know what you mean. Blaine - I know that I've been pushing you to do things you're not quite comfortable with, and I'd say I'm sorry for that, but I can't. Not when I saw how much you needed them."

Blaine pulled back a little. "Not now, Kurt. Please?"

Kurt hesitated. "We do need to talk, Blaine. You know we do."

Blaine's nod had a tinge of doomed resignation. "But not now,” he said pleadingly.

"No," Kurt agreed, "Not now." He smiled. "Now we cuddle and watch movies."

Blaine looked down at himself, then back up at Kurt. “Should I get dressed?”

Kurt shrugged. “Up to you. It might make you feel better, since you’ve been in them all day, but if you just want to stay comfy, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“I think I should get dressed.”

“Okay.”

Blaine didn’t move. Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. “Blaine, honey - you do realize you have to go upstairs to get dressed, right?”[m5] 

“I know,” Blaine said, discomfort clear in his voice. “But I -” He broke off abruptly, biting his lip.

“Blaine,” Kurt said sharply. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Blaine wouldn’t look Kurt in the eyes as he quietly said “I don’t want - it’s still all - from yesterday, and I can’t -”

Suddenly Kurt understood, and wished he didn’t. “Is that why you were downstairs, honey?” He asked softly. “Because you couldn’t go back in your room after I left?”

Blaine gave a minute nod of his head, still looking at the floor instead of Kurt.

“Oh, Blaine.” Kurt’s heart broke a little. He never should have left Blaine last night, curfew or no curfew. Reaching forward, he took Blaine’s hands again. “Would it be okay if I come up with you? I can clean up while you pick out your clothes.”

Blaine shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Willing to try?”

Blaine didn’t answer.

“You are going to have to use your room again at some point,” Kurt said, aiming for a wry tone of voice. He wasn’t quite sure he succeeded, but Blaine nodded, visibly more to himself than to Kurt.

“It’s okay. I - I can - you can stay down here. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t sound like it.

“Blaine -”

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing, and I shouldn’t be - I’ll be fine.”

“Blaine.” Kurt turned Blaine’s face toward him, forcing his boyfriend to finally look him in the eyes. “It’s _not_ stupid; it’s _not_ nothing, and I’m coming with you.”

Blaine opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, but Kurt cut him off: “End of discussion.”

He led Blaine upstairs by the hand, and sat him down on the bed while Kurt quickly cleaned up their makeshift dinner from the night before and firmly closed the closet door. “So!” Kurt turned to Blaine with a clap together of his hands. “What are you in the mood for today? Sartorially speaking, I mean.” Without waiting for a reply, Kurt strode over to the new wardrobe and threw the doors open wide.

“Don’t care,” Blaine said. “You pick.”

Kurt hummed happily as he rummaged through Blaine’s closet. He loved picking out his boyfriend’s clothes. Carefully putting together a stylish yet comfortable ensemble, he presented it to Blaine with a flourish. “Your clothes, good sir.”

Blaine accepted them with a quiet laugh. He was clearly still somewhat uncomfortable, but Kurt was glad to see that fading. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

After Blaine was dressed, Kurt suddenly realized what the outfit so sorely lacked. A bow-tie. “Oh!” and he knew just the one!

Kurt tied Blaine’s bow-tie for him, loving the way Blaine so obediently held still and lifted his chin to give easier access. He’d always loved this, the _intimacy_ of it. He still remembered as a child watching his mother tie his father’s tie, on the occasions circumstances demanded one.

***

Blaine’s butt hurt, but he didn’t want to say anything. Besides, it was nice, in a way, a reminder of how much Kurt cared, a reminder that he was forgiven. He’d atoned for his sins and been absolved of guilt (and Blaine was never going to tell Kurt about the religious parallels he couldn’t help but draw. Hazard of being raised Catholic.).

Blaine really didn’t want to think too much right then. He knew if he did, his thoughts would just start going round and round again and it’d be _terrible_ and Kurt would see and - no. Better to - Easier to - just let Kurt decide for him. It was too much right now, to try to pick the perfect outfit.

It was better to just hold still and let Kurt fasten his bow-tie around his neck. The pressure of it wasn’t substantial, but Blaine could feel it there, and it was like Kurt was there, wrapped all around him, and the warm weight of it was sinking into his bones and he was sinking down and down and no no no no he couldn’t get up he couldn’t speak he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t kurt please something was wrong so so wrong the walls were closing in and the air was so heavy and it had been soft and warm and comforting but now it was suffocating and -

CRACK!

Blaine shocked back to himself, hand reaching up to touch his stinging cheek. Kurt had … slapped him?

Kurt looked just as shocked as Blaine felt. Suddenly, Blaine realized how very bare his neck was - but his bow-tie?

“I took it off,” Kurt said. Blaine blinked at him. What? “Your bow-tie,” Kurt said. “I took it off.”

Blaine hadn’t even noticed. There was something wrong with him. Something so, so wrong. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “No, Blaine; there’s nothing -”

“I didn’t even notice you took my tie off,” Blaine interrupted, knowing his voice was going too fast but he couldn’t help it. “I - something happened, and I wasn’t _here_ anymore, and I still feel kind of like I’m drunk, Kurt, but not the fun drunk, or the throwing up drunk, and I can’t - it’s like I’m broken, I broke myself, I don’t even know how -”

“Blaine!”

Blaine broke off abruptly, suddenly realizing Kurt had been saying his name for a while now. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. God, why am I like this? I’m sorry, this is stupid, I’m being stupid -”

Kurt’s hands were suddenly cupping Blaine’s face. “Stop,” he said firmly.

Blaine stopped.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” Kurt said. “And you’re not being stupid.” He bit his lip for a minute. “I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on, and - nothing is wrong with you. _Nothing_. I know you feel strange and out of control right now, but - do you trust me, honey?”

Blaine tried to nod, then realized he couldn’t. “Yes,” he whispered. He did trust Kurt. Of course he trusted Kurt.

Kurt’s thumb was stroking his cheek now, and Blaine couldn’t help but focus on the minute little movements, his skin felt so sensitive, it was like every touch, every texture was nothing he’d ever experienced before, and it was _Kurt_ -

“Blaine!”

With a jerk, Blaine focused back on Kurt, who was looking at him worriedly. “I trust you,” Blaine said, answering Kurt’s question again.

Kurt nodded. “Good. We need to talk, Blaine, and we’re going to, okay? And I’ll explain what I think is going on.”

“What-” Blaine started to ask.

Kurt shushed him. “Honey, right now you’re barely managing to concentrate on this conversation. I need you all the way here for the conversation we’re going to have.”

Blaine wasn’t here? He wasn’t, he wasn’t here for Kurt, Kurt needed to talk to him and stupid Blaine, he couldn’t even focus long enough for that to happen, what kind of boyfriend was he anyway -

“Blaine!” Kurt sounded exasperated now. He looked lost for a moment, then tightened his grip on Blaine’s jaw for a second. “Count backwards from fifty.”

What? Why?

“ _Now_ , Blaine,” his boyfriend snapped. Blaine obediently started counting.

***

Kurt swallowed hard as he exited Blaine's room, trying to force back tears. He didn't know what to do, and Blaine needed him and what if he did it _wrong_ -

No. He couldn't do this now. Blaine needed him. Kurt could do all the panicking and second-thinking and guilt-tripping he wanted later. Right now, this was not about him. It was about Blaine, and what Blaine needed, even if Kurt wasn't quite sure what that was.

It had been terrifying, looking up from tying Blaine's bow-tie to see the empty, afraid look on his boyfriend's face. He'd looked so panicked, but also so out of it - he hadn't even heard Kurt asking if he was okay. He hadn't responded at all until Kurt had, in a moment of sheer desperation, _slapped_ him.

It was like the other day, but Blaine didn't seem to be enjoying it. He seemed upset, and frightened, and he couldn't seem to snap out of it.

Kurt didn't know what was going on, but he needed to fix it. This wasn't subspace. Or maybe it was, but something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Kurt could still faintly hear Blaine obediently counting down. The slap had worked, sort of. Blaine had been back with him for a few minutes, before he slipped back down. Maybe a shock was exactly what he needed.

Kurt made it back to Blaine’s room right as his boyfriend got to seven, cutting it closer than Kurt would have liked. Crossing the room, Kurt knelt on the floor in front of his boyfriend, taking one of Blaine’s hands in his. He waited patiently for Blaine to finish counting and then took the ice-cold washcloth he’d brought with him and gently placed it on Blaine’s face.

It took a second, but then Blaine was instinctively pulling back. Kurt held him still. “Just a little longer, honey.”

“Cold,” Blaine complained petulantly.

“I know, honey, but it’s waking you up, isn’t it?”

“M’not asleep!”

“No,” Kurt agreed, finally pulling the washcloth back. “You weren’t sleeping. But you weren’t quite awake, either. Are you back with me now?”

Blaine blinked at him, eyes clearer than they had been. “I guess so? I don’t understand the question.”

Kurt could see the moment panic started to hit.

“I’m sorry! I should know, I don’t, I’m sorry, I’ll do better-”

“Blaine.” Kurt spoke firmly, waiting until Blaine trailed off to continue. “You’re doing just fine. You’re being so good for me, honey; I promise.”

Blaine didn’t believe him, Kurt could tell.

“Have I ever lied to you, Blaine?”

Blaine shook his head. “No, never.”

“Never,” Kurt agreed. “And I never will. So when I say you don’t need to be sorry, I mean it. Understand?”

Blaine hesitated. “Intellectually I understand it,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t mean I believe it - not that I don’t believe you, because I _do_ , I just -”

“Shh, I know.” Kurt absolved Blaine’s burgeoning guilt with a chaste kiss. “It’s hard for you, Blaine. I know that. I know you still feel sorry, even though you don’t need to be. I’m not angry with you. I just want you to try to move past that. It’s not necessary. You, Blaine Ex-Warbler, are perfect just the way you are, and I am so proud of you.”

“I want you to be.”

Kurt’s heart broke a little again at Blaine’s plaintive tone, and instinctively he pulled his boyfriend down to kiss him again. “I am,” Kurt whispered again and again against Blaine’s lips. “I am, so very, very proud.”

Pulling back, Kurt looked at Blaine searchingly. “What do you need, Blaine?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Kurt said quickly, because Blaine looked so broken up about not knowing. “That’s okay, honey. You don’t have to know. Are you still having trouble staying here with me?”

“Not like I was before?” Blaine’s breath hitched in an almost sob. “Kurt, I couldn’t - it was like I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move and you weren’t _there_ -”

“I _was_ there,” Kurt broke in sharply. Taking a deep breath, he consciously gentled his tone. “I mean, I was there, honey. I promise. The only time I left was when I had you count for me.”

“No, I know,” Blaine said, and Kurt could hear frustration in his voice. “You were here, I know you were, but you weren’t - I couldn’t even say your _name_ , Kurt. It was like I was sinking down and down and down and I was never going to come back up and -”

“And it scared you,” Kurt finished for him. Blaine nodded. “Listen to me, honey. You’re safe with me. You’re _always_ safe with me. I’ll never let anything happen to you if I can possibly help it.”

Blaine nodded again, more slowly.

“So what do you need, honey?”

“Just…talk to me?” Blaine requested quietly. “It’s easier when you - when I have something to focus on.”

“Of course.” Kurt sat down on the bed behind Blaine and tugged him closer, cuddling up to him. “Have I told you about Finn’s latest career plan yet?” At Blaine’s shake of his head, Kurt smiled, rolling his eyes. “Well, it may be the most ridiculous one yet, let me tell you…”

***

Blaine drifted off before Kurt got half-way through his dramatic re-enactment of the latest Finchel drama, much to Kurt’s relief. He really wasn’t sure what was best to do for Blaine at the moment - he was pretty sure Blaine had been going into subspace again, like yesterday, but something had gone wrong … he’d never read about that.

Kurt carefully disentangled himself from Blaine (he swore Blaine somehow grew extra limbs when he slept. It was the only explanation.) and grabbed Blaine’s laptop from the desk. He cuddled up to Blaine again as he opened the computer. It was time to do a little more research…and to figure out just how to talk to Blaine about it.

Kurt could tell when Blaine started to wake, because all of a sudden the head in his lap was turning in toward Kurt’s belly and nuzzling in. Kurt set the computer aside to pet his boyfriend’s hair some more.

“Hey, sleepyhead. You awake?”

“..no.”

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. Sleepy Blaine was adorable. “Well, alright then,” Kurt teased, “I guess I’d better go home, since my boyfriend clearly isn’t awake enough to care.”

“No, don’t go. M’awake.” Blaine’s yawn was muffled by Kurt’s shirt, and Kurt stifled another giggle.

“You sure?”

“M’sure.” Blaine slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt smiled. “You needed the rest. Besides, it wasn’t exactly a hardship to cuddle with my extremely cuddly boyfriend.” Deciding Blaine was awake enough now, Kurt grew serious once again. It was time. God help him. (Figuratively speaking, okay. It’s a turn of phrase, nothing more.)

“I think we need to talk, honey.” Kurt could feel Blaine stiffen, and hurried to add: “It’s nothing bad, I promise. I’m not breaking up with you or telling you I have some awful disease or anything like that. It’s just -” Kurt cut himself off. How was he going to do this?

Making a split-second decision, Kurt abruptly said: “Stand up, Blaine.”

Blaine looked confused (and concerned, and cuddly, and cute, and…not the point) but obediently stood. “Kurt, what -”

“Hop on one foot,” Kurt ordered, not budging from his spot on the bed.

Blaine hopped for a few moments, then stopped. “Kurt -”

“Did I say to stop?” Kurt said sharply.

“…No?” Blaine said hesitantly.

Kurt raised an imperious eyebrow, heart racing. This was the true test.

Blaine started hopping again. “I feel ridiculous,” he complained. “Why am I doing this, Kurt?”

“Because I told you to,” Kurt said, feeling slightly giddy.

“Yeah, but _why_?”

“I just said.”

“No you didn’t,” Blaine disagreed.

Kurt stopped fighting the slightly manic grin his face wanted to make. “Yes, I did. You’re doing this because _I told you to_.”

Blaine clearly didn’t understand.

“You can stop now, honey,” Kurt said kindly.

Blaine stopped. Kurt beckoned him closer, and took Blaine’s hands in his own.

“You always do what I tell you to, Blaine. Have you ever thought about why?”

“I don’t always do what you tell me to. That’s ridiculous.”

Kurt shook his head, affectionately amused. “Alright,” he agreed, “Not always. But whenever it’s important, or whenever it’s … personal, you listen to me.”

“Well, of course I listen to you. You’re my _boyfriend_.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

Blaine was looking defensive now. Kurt hurried to continue, not wanting this conversation to devolve into a fight like earlier.

“What do you know about BDSM, Blaine?”

“Why?” Blaine asked warily. “That’s got nothing to do with-”

“Just answer the question, Blaine. What do you know about BDSM?”

Blaine hesitated. “Like…whips and chains and stuff?”

Kurt bit his lip trying not to laugh. “Yeah, whips and chains and stuff. That’s not all there is to it, though.”

“Kurt, how on Earth do you know-”

“I told you,” Kurt cut his boyfriend off. “I’ve been doing some reading.”

“On BDSM?”

“Among other things.”

“But. _Why_?”

Kurt gently tugged on Blaine’s hands, pulling his boyfriend downward. Blaine obediently dropped to his knees, looking up at Kurt in confusion.

“Because I think this is something that you need, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”

Blaine opened his mouth, visibly about to protest, but Kurt pressed an imperious finger to his lips. “I’m not done.”

Blaine’s eyes flashed with frustration, but he stayed quiet.

“I love you,” Kurt said firmly, never breaking eye contact. “And you love me, and both of those things make you _mine_ , and I _will_ take care of you.”

Kurt took another deep breath. “Now. Tell me what you know about BDSM. Besides the whips and chains and stuff.”

Blaine was biting his lip, clearly uncomfortable, but replied nonetheless. “I … I don’t know, Kurt. I thought that was it, basically. I mean, there’s the one person who’s like, a freak, and likes being tied up and _hurt_ and _humiliated_ or something, I don’t even know, and the other guy - or girl; isn’t it like, mostly dominatrixes and stuff? The other person likes _hurting_ people, and gets off on how pathetic the other person is, how much of a disgusting desperate slut they are, how—”

“Stop,” Kurt ordered sharply. Blaine’s mouth snapped shut mid-word. Kurt breathed in, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. That was what Blaine knew about BDSM? That was what he thought about it? No wonder he’d been freaking out so much. To have Kurt even hinting that this should be part of their relationship - that must have fed into all of Blaine’s insecurities; maybe even created new ones.

Kurt had been lucky, in a way. His instinctive dislike for porn had kept him from being exposed to the same sort of things Blaine clearly had. All his previous knowledge about BDSM had come from detective shows, where there was (at least usually) a bit more even-handed treatment, and his google searches for “my boyfriend likes it when I tell him what to do” and “boyfriend likes to sit at my feet” had led him to some informative personal journal entries of various doms and subs. He’d been able to narrow down his focus more to the d/s part of the equation, bypassing the s&m stuff, at least for now.

“That’s not what BDSM is, Blaine. No one’s a freak, no one’s pathetic, no one’s -”

“Of course they are,” Blaine interrupted. “They have to be, to want that kind of thing. What kind of _normal_ person-”

“Blaine!” Kurt’s voice cracked like the whip Blaine had mentioned earlier. “The next time you interrupt me, I swear I will put you over my knee and spank you again, sore ass or no. Understand?”

Blaine shrank back a little, giving a small, hesitant nod.

“Use your words, Blaine,” Kurt commanded.

“I understand,” Blaine said in a small voice.

“Good boy.”

***

Blaine didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Kurt was talking about contracts now, about negotiation and limits and safewords, and Blaine didn’t understand.

“It’s about love, honey.”

How could it be about love? It was pain and humiliation and dirty and wrong and this couldn’t be happening, Kurt couldn’t be saying this, suggesting this; it had to be a joke, a nightmare, a fever-induced hallucination; this couldn’t be happening. Kurt couldn’t think Blaine wanted this. Kurt couldn’t want this. Kurt couldn’t want _Blaine_ to want this. Kurt couldn’t love someone who wanted this, couldn’t love someone that pathetic, that needy, that disgustingly perverted -

“Blaine.”

Blaine wrenched his attention back to Kurt. His boyfriend had spoken sharply, cutting through Blaine’s internal turmoil.

“I need you to listen to me,” Kurt repeated. Blaine had to crane his neck back a little to look his boyfriend in the eyes, which ached a little, but he did it because Kurt wanted him to, wanted Blaine to look at him, and Blaine never wanted to disappoint Kurt, not ever. “You like to make people happy. You like making _me_ happy. That’s not a bad thing.”

Well, no, but what did that have to do with it?

“You like being taken care of. That’s not a bad thing either.”

Blaine didn’t need to be taken care of, he wasn’t a _child_ -

“You don’t _need_ to be taken care of, Blaine, but you like it. It’s okay,” his boyfriend added. “I like taking care of you.”

Blaine guessed that was true. He did like it when Kurt picked out his clothes, tied his bow-tie. It made him feel all warm inside that Kurt cared enough to make sure Blaine looked good, that he was making Kurt happy by such a little thing as letting Kurt choose for him.

“You like it when I tell you what to do. You like being good for me.”

No- that wasn’t-

“In fact, I think you need to be good for someone,” his boyfriend continued inexorably.

Blaine didn’t want to listen to this anymore.

“You need to be good, need someone to know how good you are. And you need someone to forgive you when you aren’t good, when you fail at something or do something wrong. You need someone to love you and be proud of you no matter what, someone who knows what a good boy you are and tells you so, all the time.”

No. Nononono.

“You’re a good boy, Blaine,” Kurt said, voice gentle now, but it didn’t matter, because each word pierced Blaine like knives. “You’re always so good for me, and I am so proud to have you as my boyfriend. So lucky to have you love me like this. So happy that you’re mine.”

He’s Kurt’s, he is, he’s always known that, but now _Kurt_ knew, Kurt knew how pathetic he was, how easily broken, and just how to break him, and if Kurt grew tired of him, grew bored, got sick of how needy and stupid his stupid needy boyfriend was -

“You’re mine, honey. Always.”

He wanted to be, oh God, he wanted to be.

Suddenly Kurt was on the floor with him, arms wrapping around Blaine and holding him tight. Blaine should have felt trapped - Kurt’s arms were like steel, confining him, preventing movement, _caging him in_ \- but instead all he could feel was relief. Kurt had him and he wasn’t going to let him go.

Blaine could just…let go.

Kurt could feel the tension in Blaine’s body slip away, and loosened his grip in response. “Blaine?”

Blaine slowly looked up, face still unsure.

“Talk to me, honey,” Kurt encouraged. “Tell me what’s going on in there.”

Blaine shook his head. “Can’t,” he mumbled, looking away again.

“Yes you can,” Kurt contradicted him. “I know you can.” He gently turned Blaine’s face back toward his. “Would it help if I asked you specific questions?”

“…maybe? I don’t know. Kurt, I don’t want to - please don’t make me -”

“Honey, we have to talk about this,” Kurt said. He knew this was scaring Blaine, making him uncomfortable and upset and Kurt wanted to drop it, but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. This was too important. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but this is _already_ part of our relationship. And it’s not safe for us to be doing this without talking about it. I punished you earlier without ever having gotten your permission _to_ punish you. That’s not okay. It was wrong of me, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“No, you - you didn’t do anything wrong; I did; you were just fixing it-”

“No, Blaine,” Kurt said firmly. “I was wrong to punish you without ever discussing it with you. You might have needed that spanking - and I know you deserved one - but I had no right to give it to you.”

“…but you said it was over, that I was forgiven.”

“It _is_ over, honey, and you _are_ forgiven. My point is that we never talked about it. I mean - okay. Say the same thing had happened, but I’d decided to use a belt on your back until it was bloody. Would that have been okay?”

“But you wouldn’t!”

“No,” Kurt agreed, “I wouldn’t. But since we hadn’t talked about it, I had no real way of knowing whether spanking you would be okay or as not okay as whipping you would be. Understand?”

Blaine grimaced a little. “I guess so?”

“We’ll come back to that, then,” Kurt said. “Now. I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them, _honestly_. If something makes you too uncomfortable to tell the truth, then say so; don’t lie to me. Tell me if you understand.”

“I understand,” Blaine whispered.

“Understand _what_?”

“…I have to tell you the truth. If I can’t, I shouldn’t lie. I should say I can’t. Like the fifth amendment.”

“…I guess that analogy works,” Kurt said after a moment. “Anyway. First things first. Did you like what we did yesterday?”

Blaine froze in place.

“Breathe,” Kurt said sharply.

Blaine obediently drew another breath in.

“Answer.”

Blaine tried to look away, but Kurt’s grip was like a vice. “I … I don’t know,” Blaine said shakily. “I didn’t want to like it.”

“That’s helpful to know, Blaine, but doesn’t answer the question. Did you like what we did yesterday- yes or no?”

“…yes,” Blaine finally said, in a small, shamed voice.

Kurt let out a deep breath in relief. He’d been so afraid Blaine would try to lie to him again. And what would he have been able to do about it? He’d threatened to spank Blaine again earlier for interrupting him, but Kurt had meant what he’d said when he’d told Blaine he was wrong to have punished Blaine without ever having negotiated it. He’d sort of backed himself into a corner, there.

But Blaine hadn’t lied. He’d been honest with Kurt, and Kurt was so, so proud of him.

“Thank you, honey,” Kurt said, gently scratching at the back of Blaine’s neck, just the way Blaine liked it. “That was hard for you to admit, wasn’t it?”

Blaine nodded jerkily.

“But you did. You were such a good boy for me, being so honest.” Kurt continued showering Blaine with a gentle stream of praise, not even really thinking about the words that fell from his lips. All that mattered was the peaceful look of contentment growing on Blaine’s face. “Do you think you can keep being so honest for me?”

Blaine nodded, eyes slipping shut.

“Good boy,” Kurt praised him again. “Such a good boy; so brave for me.” Blaine turned his face into Kurt’s hand and kissed Kurt’s wrist - a soft, chaste kiss that felt like homage. Kurt couldn’t help but shiver a little; as sweet a kiss as it was, it was also terribly teasing, brushing just lightly enough against the sensitive skin of Kurt’s wrist to ignite all the nerve endings and make Kurt absolutely ache for touch. <i>Later</i>, Kurt told himself. <i>Later.</i>

“What did you like about yesterday, Blaine?”

“…I-”

Kurt patiently waited for Blaine to collect his thoughts. He’d known this would be a difficult question, but his boyfriend seemed to be trying to answer it.

“I don’t know if I can put it into words,” Blaine said at last.

“Try for me,” Kurt said. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, honey; just do your best.”

“…I… you loved me.”

“<i>Love</i> you,” Kurt corrected him. “I love you.”

“I know. I mean, it was like. I don’t know, I was safe and you were there and nothing seemed to matter anymore, not New York, not my parents, not what we were going to have for dinner, any of it. I was floating away and sinking down into the floor and it didn’t matter because you were there and you loved me - you <i>love</i> me and it was like I was falling into you or when we had sex for the first time and it was like we were breathing the same air, breathing <i>each other</i> and I’m not making any sense, I know I’m not making any sense - I’m sorry, Kurt, I’m sorry but I don’t know how to make it make sense because it <i>doesn’t</i>-”

“Shh,” Kurt hushed him. “You don’t need to be sorry; you’re being so good, just trying for me. I know this kind of thing is difficult to put into words, but you’re doing such a good job of it, honey. You’re helping me so much.”

Kurt stroked his boyfriend’s hair reassuringly. “So you liked yesterday - the closet, and my petting you, and all that. What about today? I punished you earlier - how did that make you feel?”

“Bad,” Blaine said after a moment.

Kurt’s fingers caught in Blaine’s hair. “Bad,” he repeated, trying to keep all emotion from his voice. “How so, honey?”

“That you had to punish me. That I was so stupid and selfish and terrible that-”

“Hey!” Kurt pulled Blaine’s hair sharply. “None of that now. It’s over; you’re forgiven, remember?”

Blaine’s head nodded hesitantly. “I … I liked that part,” he volunteered quietly.

“Liked what? Being forgiven?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s over now, right? And I mean, I can still <i>feel</i> it - every time I shift my weight, it’s like it reminds me to be good, reminds me that you love me, that you care enough to - I can still feel it.”

“Good,” Kurt said, nearly light-headed with relief. “That’s good, Blaine. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

“I liked it,” Blaine said again, quietly, ducking his head.

Kurt gave into his instincts and brushed a gentle kiss against Blaine’s forehead. “Good,” he repeated softly. “That’s good, honey.”

Kurt knew there were probably other questions he should be asking, things he should be drawing Blaine’s attention to, educating his boyfriend about, but - Kurt could feel an ache building deep back behind his eyes, signaling a headache coming on. They’d barely talked at all, really, but Kurt already felt worn out - and Blaine had to be even more affected. Maybe it was time to take a break.

“Blaine?”

Blaine looked up curiously. He looked calm now, not overwhelmed, but Kurt could see the toll the conversation had been taking on him in the exhausted lines of Blaine’s face.

“Let’s let this go for now,” Kurt suggested. “We still need to talk more, but I think we’ve done enough for today. I don’t know about you,” Kurt paused, squeezing his boyfriend’s hands, “But <i>I</i> was really looking forward to watching <i>Moulin Rouge</i>.”

“Well, it is, after all, a <i> magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement; a sensual ravishment</i>,” Blaine said, grin sparkling in his eyes.

“A <i>spectacular spectacular</i>?”

“<i>No words in the vernacular can describe this great event</i>.”

***

They hadn’t talked any further that night. By mutual unspoken agreement, they’d decided it was best to take a step back and breathe. Kurt <i>had</i> left Blaine with a small folder of bookmarked websites and articles to look at, and extracted a promise from Blaine to do so, but other in that, the rest of their evening had been devoted to the tragic, epic romance that was <i>Moulin Rouge</i>. And to kissing. There had been a great deal of kissing, along with a good helping of groping, but before things could progress further, Kurt had had to go home.

Possibly for the best, considering the emotional ups and downs of the day, but they were teenage boys and therefore rather displeased with being cockblocked, even if it was by a curfew and not a person, as such. But as Kurt reluctantly pointed out, orgasms then weren’t worth the grounding that would occur, since that would in turn prevent <i>more</i> future orgasms.

Blaine had mangled an adage about orgasms in bushes, which Kurt took for agreement. (And also that his boyfriend should never try to change an axiom’s specifics in an attempt to make it match the context more precisely, because really, <i>what</i>?) And so, Kurt reluctantly took his leave, kissing Blaine at the door a bit longer than he really should have, but it really was Blaine’s fault, in the end. Kurt couldn’t help that his boyfriend was just so damn hot.

Luckily, his father hadn’t said anything when Kurt got home just past curfew, and Kurt went to bed all in all very satisfied with himself. His dreams that night were less satisfying - nebulous, shapeless things that went round in circles and never progressed, with flashes of Blaine sinking to his knees, of black leather stark against the brown of Blaine’s skin, of the softness in Blaine’s eyes, quiet, heated murmurs of the dirtiest nature, Blaine begging, voice high and tight and desperate, Blaine Blaine <i>Blaine</i>, beautiful and his and -

Kurt woke up, achingly hard and with a bone deep sense of loss. Maybe Blaine wasn’t the only one who needed something.

*** [insert a blaine pov here to keep it balanced?]

It was almost a week before they had the chance to be alone again. Blaine’s mother was home for a few days, and she wanted to spend “quality time” with her youngest.

Blaine explained over the phone that this meant a lot of watching documentaries and discussing Blaine’s college applications.

Blaine didn’t seem to particularly be a fan of said quality time. Kurt couldn’t blame him. Blaine’s parents seemed to alternate between ignoring him and expecting him to be a perfect, quietly respectful and obedient son.

Kurt tried bringing up the topic on skype once or twice, but Blaine always changed the subject abruptly. Kurt spent most of his time getting ready for New York, but when in Colombia on a shopping expedition, he couldn’t help but shyly make his way into a not-quite-so-sketchy-looking adult store. Keeping his head high, Kurt tried his best to look like he knew what he was doing. And also to not run screaming dear god what was that did that go <i>inside</i> you how would it <i>fit</i>?

Blaine couldn’t stop laughing when Kurt recounted his adventure later.

“-it was traumatizing, Blaine! I will never be able to unsee the things that I have seen!”

More laughter. Kurt scowled at the phone. His boyfriend should be commiserating with him, not laughing at him.

Kurt couldn’t bring himself to care too much, though. Blaine’s laughter was beautiful and infectious, as always. Kurt loved it when Blaine laughed.

When they did get the chance to be alone again, it was at Kurt’s. It was a little disconcerting, hanging out there rather than Blaine’s. Kurt wasn’t quite sure why - well, no. That wasn’t true. Kurt did know why. He loved his house, his family; loved welcoming Blaine into his home, pulling him into the dizzying hubub of the Hummel-Hudson household; he _did_. It was just…Blaine’s house was always empty, always just Blaine. And while that led to discomfort of its own (seriously, that living room looked like it belonged in a magazine), it also meant that sometimes, Kurt couldn’t help but pretend that it was _their_ house - that Blaine’s room was _their_ room, Blaine’s bed _their_ bed. The furniture that Blaine would automatically climb all over without intervention - _their_ furniture.

It was easy, being intimate there, in a house where there were only their own voices echoing back, only ever the sound of their own laughter and the slick slide of crisp clean sheets.

Here, his family was everywhere (even when, like now, Kurt had the house to himself). That was the dent from Finn’s head hitting the door-frame, and that was the tacky fishing plaque his dad was so proud of. The AC hummed with traces of Carol’s favorite song, and the air always had just a hint of car oil.

It felt strange, and Kurt didn’t quite know what to do. They’d been alone in Kurt’s house before, of course, but not since before - well, _before_. But then Blaine was kissing him, and Kurt forgot about the strangeness. How could that matter with this wonderful boy in his arms?

Reluctantly, Kurt pulled back. Kissing was all well and good, kissing was <i>fantastic</i>, but they needed to talk. Blaine tried to kiss him again, but Kurt dodged.

Blaine pouted.

Kurt rolled his eyes a little and gave Blaine a brief peck. “No pouting,” he said sternly. “It’s talking time now, not kissing time.”

“Should be kissing time,” Blaine grumbled.

“You think <i>all</i> of the time should be kissing time.”

“Well, it <i>should</i>.”

Kurt gave a huff of amusement and pulled Blaine across the room to sit on Kurt’s bed. Kurt sat crosslegged in front of him. “Talk,” Kurt ordered.

“Well, I hear it’s supposed to rain later, but I don’t believe it; I mean, just look at the sun-”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“You said to talk!”

“And you know very well what I meant.”

Blaine had his most innocently befuddled face on. Unfortunately for Blaine, Kurt knew he was faking.

“About the articles, Blaine,” Kurt said patiently. “About what we talked about the other day.”

Blaine looked like he wanted to be anyplace but here. With a sigh, Kurt changed tack. “Did you read the articles I bookmarked for you?”

Blaine nodded, uncomfortably.

“Did you understand them?” Kurt asked, trying to be patient.

Blaine shrugged.

“Did you <i>not</i> understand them?”

Blaine shrugged.

Kurt sighed, and couldn’t quite hide the note of exasperation. “That’s exceptionally helpful, Blaine; thank you.”

Blaine sighed resignedly. “I don’t know, okay? I mean, I understood what they were saying, but what they were saying didn’t make <i>sense</i>. All that stuff about submission being a gift and the sub being in control - isn’t the whole point that the dom person is the one calling the shots? And okay, so apparently pain makes the body release endorphins or something, but there’s still something just wrong with a person who wants to be hurt. Like, people get sent to the loonybin for cutting themselves all the time. And wanting to <i>hurt</i> someone? That’s just fucked up.”

Kurt really wanted to interrupt, but Blaine was actually talking, so Kurt bit back his knee-jerk reaction of <i>wrong, wrong, you are so very very wrong</i>.

“And all that control stuff - the dom telling you what to wear, what to do, hurting you if you disobey them - that’s like, the definition of an abusive relationship, right? So okay, I guess if people want to do that kind of stuff, it’s their prerogative and all that, but it’s just kind of screwed up, and I don’t - <i>why</i> are you doing this, Kurt? It doesn’t - you’re not like that. You’re not - I just don’t understand. Make me understand.”

Blaine’s voice was plaintive, and he was rubbing the inside of his left wrist, again and again in a clearly unconscious gesture of upset. Kurt reached out and gently covered Blaine’s hand with his own, holding his wrist firmly enough to be an anchor. “It’s not abuse, Blaine. I mean, it can be, but so can any relationship. It’s…about trust. You - I mean, the sub - trusts the dominant to hurt them without <i>hurting</i> them, or set boundaries for them or whatever, and the dominant trusts that the sub will tell them if they <i>are</i> hurting them. Like - okay. When we were first … getting physical, you kept saying you didn’t want to push me, right? And I didn’t want to push you, and we both weren’t ready. So we made a no-hands-south-of-the-equator rule. And other than that, we said we could touch each other however, you know? You could put your hand up my shirt or I could give you a hickey from hell. And the reason we could do that is because we trusted each other to <i>say</i> if something wasn’t okay, something made them uncomfortable. It’s just like that - but on a larger scale.”

Blaine didn’t seem convinced. “But they’re <i>hurting</i> each other.”

“Sometimes,” Kurt said carefully, “People need to be hurt - maybe because they feel guilty about something and need a way to atone, or because they’re stressed, and just need the release of the adrenaline and endorphins, or even just because they like it and it turns them on.”

“How can pain turn someone on? That’s fucked up, Kurt.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Blaine.” Kurt tried to think of another example, and finally came up with one. “I like it when you give me hickeys, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Blaine answered cautiously, suspiciously.

“That hurts when I do it to you, doesn’t it?”

“No-”

“A good hurt, but it still hurts. It’s bruising the skin.”

“I guess so, but-”

“Is it fucked up that I like it when you do that? All sorts of people give each other hickeys.”

“But-”

“But what? ‘That’s different?’ Bullshit. It may be a different level of pain, but it’s still pain, and pain we <i>both</i> enjoy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Blaine said, pulling back defensively and crossing his arms. Kurt noticed him rubbing his wrist again, too. “But you can’t tell me that it’s normal for someone to be in control like that. Relationships should be equal.”

“Just because the dynamics are different from the relationships other people have doesn’t mean that a d/s relationship isn’t between equals, Blaine. If the dom and sub didn’t see each other as equals, it wouldn’t work.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, but it doesn’t make sense.”

Blaine looked so upset that Kurt couldn’t help but try to kiss the frown away. “Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Kurt said slowly, pulling back. Blaine scrunched up his face in confusion, but stayed quiet. “My telling you isn’t working, is it?”

Blaine shook his head minutely.

“What if I show you?” Kurt asked, keeping a hand cupped to Blaine’s cheek, gentling him as one might a skittish horse.

“Show me-how?”

Blaine sounded apprehensive, and Kurt couldn’t blame him. “Nothing with pain,” he quickly assured his boyfriend. “Well, not beyond the level of hickeys, anyway.”

“Then what-”

“Just…let me take care of you?”

***

_“Let me take care of you?”_

Blaine wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made heat stir deep inside him and Kurt was <i>looking</i> at him, face open and wanting and tentative, like he was afraid Blaine was going to say no. As if Blaine ever could.

Blaine’s mouth was too dry to speak, so he just nodded instead, and as his reward got to see Kurt’s face light up.

“It’ll be good, Blaine,” Kurt said, and Blaine couldn’t help but rub his cheek against the hand that cupped it. Kurt’s smile was fond as he pulled Blaine in for a kiss. “I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Blaine believed him.

He didn’t know what to expect, though. All that stuff they’d been talking about - he almost pulled back as a wave of nausea ran through him. He didn’t want that stuff. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t some kind of freak. He just had to show Kurt that, and then everything could go back to normal.

A stinging nip to his bottom lip forcibly brought his attention back to the kiss. Kurt pulled back for a moment, looking fierce. “Stop that,” he scolded. “Stay here, Blaine. Stay with me.”

Blaine was about to protest that he hadn’t gone anywhere, but then Kurt was kissing him again and at some point he must have taken hold of Blaine’s wrists because suddenly they were lying back and Blaine’s hands were over his head and Kurt was <i>holding him down</i> and his wrists were aching, so so sweetly and it matched the ache in the pit of his belly, the ache in his balls and cock, and he was melting, melting into the kiss, into Kurt and it was okay because Kurt had him and he would never let him go.

***

Reluctantly, Kurt tore himself away from Blaine, who protested but he <i>didn’t move his hands, ohmygod</i> — how was Kurt this lucky?

His brain helpfully supplied a soundtrack of Julie Andrews and whats-his-name-whatever singing (name of song about somewhere in my youth or childhood / I must have done something good) and Kurt forcibly dismissed it. So not the time.

Rummaging in his hope chest, Kurt realized he’d forgotten something and popped his head up just long enough to order Blaine to take his shirt off. “And leave the bowtie,” he added a moment later.

Blaine sat up to obey and holy crap, he totally just went to his knees for this with no prompting fuck this had better work, it <i>had</i> to because jesus fucking christ Blaine needed it.

Finally, finally! Kurt found what he’d been looking for. He’d thought it very clever at the time to hide it beneath his collection of tiaras, but that clearly wasn’t going to be a good hiding place, because what’s the <i>point</i> if he couldn’t get at it quickly?

Kurt shut the chest and joined Blaine on the bed. Blaine was still kneeling; he hadn’t laid back down, and his shirt was carefully folded next to him.

He was still wearing his bowtie.

A little worse for wear, to be sure - bowties are really not designed with the purpose of being able to worm your shirt collar out from under them, but that wasn’t the point.

He was still wearing his bowtie.

Kurt had tied that bowtie himself not thirty minutes ago, when Blaine came to the Hudmel door with it knotted and askew.

<i>Kurt</i> had put it there.

Kurt couldn’t help but shut his eyes for a moment, trying to resist the urge to just pin Blaine down and rub against him until they both came because <i>fuck,</i> Blaine was <i>his</i> and Kurt didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on in his life.

But he had a mission, a plan - he was the man with the plan, how about that - and by god he would go through with it or die trying.

“Put your hands out,” Kurt said, keeping his own behind his back, so as not to ruin the surprise.

Blaine did, and he was even offering them palm up, exactly the way Kurt wanted them, held up in supplication.

Kurt couldn’t have bitten back the pleased sound he made at that, even if he’d wanted to. Blaine’s nervous face brightened at having done something right, and he sucked in a surprised, ragged breath as Kurt finally showed him what he’d been hiding.

It was a pair of cuffs. Not high end, because holy crap, who knew a set of leather cuffs could cost more than a pair of leather <i>pants</i>? but nice enough. Pleather, so they looked the part, black and sleek and dangerous, with a soft lining. Kurt had tried them himself to make sure they were comfortable.

And they locked. Not that Kurt planned on locking them, but he’d thought it worth the extra money just to have the option available.

Kurt studied Blaine’s face carefully. He didn’t want to spook him. “This okay?”

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but ended up shaking his head instead.

Kurt’s heart sank. So much for proving himself. “So they’re not okay, then.”

Blaine shook his head again, harder and more desperately.

Kurt wasn’t quite sure how to take that.

“Use your words, Blaine,” he gently reminded his boyfriend. “Is it okay for me to use these on you - yes or no?”

Blaine took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself speak, but choked on it several times. Kurt waited patiently, and was finally rewarded with a hoarse yes.

Kurt smiled in relief, and his smile had Blaine smiling too, albeit in a more strained manner. Carefully, Kurt wrapped first one, then the other, of Blaine’s wrists in the cuffs, making sure the grip was firm and secure, but not so tight it would interfere with Blaine’s circulation. (He…might have had the clerk show him how to do that.)

Blaine was shaking and every time Kurt wrapped a wrist tight, buckled it shut, Kurt could hear a low, choked off moan coming from Blaine’s throat, but Blaine never moved from where Kurt had placed him, never pulled away or shifted his weight.

Kurt couldn’t help but run a possessive hand down Blaine’s front. Blaine shivered, but didn’t pull away, wrists still offered upwards like a prayer.

“So obedient,” Kurt murmured. Blaine made a sharp, almost despairing sound, but still didn’t move.

“Lie down,” Kurt said quietly, gently pushing Blaine backward. It must have hurt, going straight from his knees to flat on his back, but Blaine didn’t complain at the stretch of it, just obediently arced his body backwards until he was lying down, head on the pillows, once more. His hands automatically went back over his head, where Kurt had had them pinned before, and Kurt kissed him for that, as a reward.

“You’re being so good for me,” Kurt praised him, giving into his urge to run his hands over Blaine’s chest, tugging a nipple on his way. Blaine didn’t manage to cut off his moan at that, and Kurt’s smile turned to almost a smirk. “Oh, honey,” he promised, reaching up to clip the cuffs together, “I’m going to do so much more than that.”

***

  
Blaine was shaking, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. His body didn’t feel like it belonged to him; it was separate, distant, and yet so close, so real - he could feel everything, every cool whisper of air across his skin, every inch of soft cloth against his back. Kurt’s hands were on him and they were hot and heavy, burning their way into him, marking him down to the bone, anchoring him to the earth itself and Blaine had never felt so weightless in his life. He was floating away and sinking down and everything centered around the sweet, terrible ache in his wrists and he knew he was making terrible, shamefully desperate needy sounds but he couldn’t help it.   
  
He was desperate, was needy, needed Kurt and everything Kurt was willing to give him; he was greedy for it, shameless, selfish, and Kurt, Kurt was so good and kind and loved him and would give him anything he asked for-  
  
Kurt was still talking to him, but the words all melted together and Blaine didn’t bother trying to figure out what his boyfriend was saying, just wrapped himself in the beautiful sound of Kurt’s voice, the comforting lilt of its rise and fall. It didn’t matter. Kurt was there. Kurt would take care of everything.  
  
Kurt would take care of  _him_.

* * *

 [m1]Needs more

 [m2]If he didn’t go back into his room yesterday, he wouldn’t have changed clothes.  Oops.

 [m3]Don’t admit to the liking it quite yet?

 [m4]Unlikely, considering he just got spanked pretty damn hard.

 [m5]Again, did he get changedlast night or not?  In PJs or yesterday’s clothes?


End file.
